Chapter One: Luxuria

I glare at the woman standing on the platform. Her flowing crimson locks frame her emerald eyes perfectly. Her makeup is applied perfectly and her clothing is clingy in all the right places. She is elevated at least five inches above the ground because of her dagger-like heels. She is the president of the nation now, elected for her popularity. President Victoria Wright drones on and on with her acceptance speech.

 

Every year, the seven states come together and elect a new president. The elections are more like beauty pageants, seeing that the candidates are the most glamorous, gaudy people in the whole of Luxuria.

 

Luxuria is the name of the seven United States. I hear legends of there being fifty states, but those stories cannot be confirmed. The idea of fifty states like the current seven is a mind boggling one.

 

"Tiffany!" I hear my sister Cheyenne call. Snapping out of my thoughts, I look up at her.

 

"Gloria, I have been shouting your name for a good thirty seconds! If you have something to say, say it aloud for all to hear and marvel at your splendid musings!" She raves.

I roll my eyes. Her platinum blonde hair shines in the sunlight while her pink contacts sparkle. Everything about this society is fake. When a person turns seventeen, they go through what is called "The Preparation." It is a yearlong process where they primp you and prod you until you are exactly perfect, in society's eyes at least. The Preparation achieves its goal with whatever means possible. If you have boring hair, they dye it. If you have a flat chest, they give you implants. If you are slightly overweight, they use liposuction.

 

Unfortunately, I turn seventeen in three days. Cheyenne turned seventeen last year, and when she returned from The Preparation, we hardly recognized her. Her naturally golden locks were dyed a fake white color, and covering her caramel eyes were pink contacts. Her breasts and bum were larger while her waist was smaller. Her nose was no longer hooked, but a narrow, dainty feature. Her lips were fuller. I could go on about her differences for hours.

 

I don't want to change the way I look. I like my ebony hair and green eyes. Who cares if I have a small butt? Oh yeah, the government does.

 

I realize that the president has finished her rant. Finally, I think, I can go home and sleep. My mother woke me up at six this morning so that I could prep for the big election reveal. I barely changed clothing, let alone put makeup on. I often wonder how I came to be born in such a place that is opposite of everything I believe.

 

"Tiffy!" My friend Caitlyn exclaims as she races toward me as fast as she can in her two inch heels. She wraps me in a hug, barely touching me.

 

"Hey, Caitlyn. What did you think of the president's speech?" I asked, hoping to learn something about what Victoria Wright had said.

 

"Oh it was just fabulous! I love how she is going to give a large sum to the board of The Preparation so that it can be started even younger!" I wince at the sound of Caitlyn squealing. She was only fifteen, which explains why she is so excited.

 

Every person in Luxuria anticipates The Preparation. They see it as a head start to their adult lives. In The Preparation, you are trained to become either an actor, model, singer, or plastic surgeon. Most parents expect their children to become plastic surgeons, as it is the highest respected job a person can obtain.

 

"The Preparation starts in three days for me." I state, trying to seem as excited as I can.

 

"Oh. Em. Gee. No. Fair. You start on Saturday? I want to go in your place!" She whines.

 

"Tiffany, it is time to leave!" My mom shouts to me from the red convertible we own.

 

"Good bye, Caitlyn!" I say, performing the Luxuria custom of kissing on each cheek. I hop into the sports car as my mom and Cheyenne gossip about the speech on the ride home.